To Save His Sister's Son
by scary-blue
Summary: what would have happened if, before the barricade, Valjean had discovered that he had a connection to one of the students? What if one of them was the child of his sister's son, who he stole that loaf of bread for all those years ago? What if he couldn't tell him? only a T because i am paranoid, probably really a K . Based loosely on the 2012 film version. i suck at summaries!


**Just a little author's note to start proceedings. I've slightly altered the characters' ages to fit what's in my head so please don't kill me. Most of the students are younger than they should be but I like them that way, so if you don't – tough. Haha. This is based on the 2012 film version, so any descriptions will fit that, not other versions, as closely as possible, but I've tried to get all the book characters, including Bahorel, in there somehow. I know that Valjean is not supposed to have met the Amis, but I've taken a few liberties with minor plot points and added some stuff to make my ideas work. Hope you like what I've done.**

Valjean walked through the streets of Paris alone. A light drizzle had begun to fall since he left his home in Rue Plumet, and he quickened his pace as it steadily soaked through his summer coat. He wasn't quite sure why he had chosen to travel so far from home to visit an unknown drinking house in one of the poorer districts. He only knew that he needed a change from the everyday, a chance to relax, and didn't want to risk bumping into anyone he knew if he should drink too much and the alcohol should loosen his tongue. So here he was, standing out in the rain, staring at the flickering lights of a shabby but inviting tavern on a rough street.

Imagining himself back at home with his parents and Jeanne, almost forty years ago now, he pushed open the door with his shoulder and entered. The wall of sound he had been expecting was noticeably absent from this particular establishment. Instead, Valjean was greeted by a handful of chattering women and a group of young men seated in a far corner. For some reason that was not clear, even to himself, these men caught his attention, and he continued to watch them as his dropped into a chair at the other side of the room.

Their dress was peculiar, if only in the way that it seemed both rich and opulent, but tattered and dirty at the same time. It was like these men – no more than boys really – represented some kind of faded grandeur; a time long forgotten, and it was strange to see in such a young group of people. There also seemed to be a very odd mixture of characters contained within the group. An exuberant man in a bright red jacket gestured wildly as he made some apparently important point to the assembled group, with at least two others – one of whom was beginning to lose his hair – listening intently to every word he said. A worried looking individual seemed to be being comforted by a friend as he fanned himself with an astonishingly white handkerchief. Another young man was writing furiously on a scrap of paper, while an extraordinarily flamboyantly dressed man peered over his shoulder at the written words. A further individual seemed to be asleep on the table, a half-empty bottle clutched in his hand as if it was a child's teddy bear, oblivious to the loud laugh from the youth beside him. But it was the man who seemed to have told the joke which had received such uproarious praise who fascinated Valjean the most. He sat in the centre of the group, with a child perched on his knee, and seemed so at ease in his surroundings that it made Valjean a little jealous. He wished he could let go like that, but knew it could only ever lead to trouble, possibly even the deaths of himself or Cosette if Javert and the police were involved.

A buxom woman in a billowing skirt placed a full tankard in front of Valjean, pulling his gaze away from the gathering in the corner. He indicated for her to come closer and, as she leant towards him, he whispered quietly in her ear.

"Those young men in the corner, Madame." He asked. "Who are they?"

"Who? Enjolras' gang?" she replied. "They're students. Don't know why, but they spend a lot of time in here. Always sit at the same table. Call themselves the 'Friends of the ABC', whatever that means." She lowered her voice even further, leaning closer to Valjean. "I think they might be plotting something." She straightened, looking around suspiciously. "But why do you ask, Monsieur?"

"No reason." Valjean assured her, flashing her the hint of a smile. "Curiosity is all."

He looked back at the group of students as the woman moved away. That figure in the centre. The one with the child. He was so familiar. But why? He had never met him before, of that he was sure, but there was something about the boy that Valjean recognised. Was it the sparkle is his eyes as they crinkled in laughter? Was it the shape of his lips as he spoke to the friends who surrounded him? Was it the confident way he held himself, tall and straight, as if the world was at his feet? Was it the way he looked at the boy on his lap out of the corner of his eye, his gaze full of love and … was that fear? Valjean couldn't place exactly what it was that caused this feeling of familiarity, and it was infuriating. Unable to come to any satisfactory conclusion, he stood abruptly and exited the tavern, leaving the woman who had brought his beer to stare after him as he headed back into the rain without drinking a single drop.

**So, I hope you liked this. Please don't shoot me for any slight inaccuracies. I don't have a beta reader, this is my first Les Miserables story, and I haven't read the original novel yet. That's my plan for summer, now that university is finished. Hopefully the next chapter will go up fairly quick, as I am enjoying writing it so far.**

**P.S. reviews equal revolution, so please leave one to help me build a barricade of words!**


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